In step: Mzungu Life

We haven’t even been in Geita for a full week and I already feel at home here (minus the ability to have basic conversations with most others).

The journey began with a few long flights with minor… well, somewhat minor… complications. I met up with the four other interns in London to fly with them to Nairobi and then to Mwanza. When we arrived to Nairobi we knew we would have to pick up our checked bags and re-check them, but we didn’t know just how great of a task that would be. We quickly realized that only 3 of our 10 bags made it. (Thankfully, mine was one of them) It’s not too easy to file multiple missing bag reports in another country where the concept of a rolling duffel doesn’t quite translate. After getting all the details figured out, the plan was to meet Brett (one of the missionaries) in the airport so that he could stay the night in the airport with us and fly the last leg to Mwanza. Since dealing with baggage claim shenanigans took quite a bit longer than expected, the airport was technically closed and we weren’t supposed to check in for our 8am flight until the next morning at 7am. Our fearless leader Brett contacted many airport workers to get us in, but airlines in Nairobi apparently have terrible communication. After we explained our situation to at least seven different employees, we eventually made our way across the slightly shady Kenyan parking lot at midnight (don't worry mom, we survived) to the terminal where we finally met Brett. I’ve never been so excited to see a man I’ve never met before in my life. We enjoyed a midnight dinner and milkshake at the Java House in the airport and attempted to sleep in plastic chairs for the next five hours until we boarded. Which meant we each slept maybe a total of one hour. Instead we had breakfast and coffee then jumped on the last short flight to finally arrive in Tanzania. Here we found that of the three bags remaining, zero made the trip. Guess this is what Jesus meant when he said do not take a purse or bag or sandals/Chacos when you go into the harvest field. (Come to find we may have helped uncover some international smuggling in the process. Apparently they were loading other boxes onto our plane, which left no room for passengers' luggage.)

With nothing but our carry-ons and newly stamped passports, we hopped into a van to head to another one of the missionary’s house for the afternoon. Driving in Tanzania is a journey in and of itself. With seemingly no real traffic laws, people pass whenever they want and pedestrians crowd both sides of the road and walk across when they have the closest break. Eventually we made it to the house where we met Brett’s wife Christie, their three kids- Baylor (age 4), Harper (2), and Cohen (3ish months)- and the Millers. I felt welcomed as the girls started playing with us and drawing us Dora pictures. The start to real friendships. We went to downtown Mwanza for Brett to run some errands and had the chance to wander on our own. This was just a tad frightening considering we were the only Mzungu (white people). Our fears were eased when we met a younger boy and girl who attempted to talk to us with the two Swahili words we knew-hello and banana. Their simple smiles made us feel welcome, but generally this wasn’t the case. We also met a boy named John who spoke English and showed us his artwork. Our first friend. Later that evening the Harrisons took us out to dinner at a really delicious Chinese restaurant on Lake Victoria, where I ate even more than I do on a regular basis in America. (At first this seemed odd to me, but I soon realized that they want to take us to these places when we have the chance to and honor us as their guests. I say this so you’re not surprised at the many delicious meals I will potentially write about, because I certainly have had just as much good food here as I have back home). Another missionary family that they partner with in Mwanza ate dinner with us. It was neat to see how all these families that are spread out between Geita and Mwanza connect and work together in supporting each other. Even just to have other kids for their children to spend time with is so good, since most are homeschooled. After dinner, the interns stayed at a hotel in hopes that some of our luggage would come the next day. Jet lag was hitting hard at this point so we filtered our water and went to bed. For 11 hours.

The next morning was our first adventure with Tanzanian breakfast. The only surprising thing was noodles. Unfortunately none of us had syrup up our sleeve (for those of you Elf fans). Two of our bags made it to Mwanza, so we picked those up and decided to head on to Geita where we’d be living this summer. It was about a three hour trip including a ferry ride. As soon as we made it to the Harrison’s, it felt like home. Other than having limited access to internet and not being certain we’d have water the next day, it really is as beautiful and welcoming as any house in the states. Not to mention they are growing all kinds of fruit trees in the backyard. One of the things I’ve learned is that these families are still families. They play soccer in their backyard, watch movies together, and have cookouts with their friends. Being a missionary isn’t a project, it’s just life. They live alongside the people and simply model a life that seeks to glorify God, be it through the way they treat their workers or through learning practical agriculture techniques. These acts of love are every bit as important as studying God’s Word with people, provided that they point to Christ and not to ourselves.

Christie spends a lot of time cooking for the family with one of the workers named Margaret. This first night they made taco soup with homemade tortilla chips. The chips were significantly better than any Mexican restaurant I’d been to. It was this night that I realized how thankful I am to be with this group after talking with the other interns and Brett for hours. Aaand after we survived a potentially fatal spider attack. (Except the spider wasn’t poisonous. It did sneak its way into my water bottle, which could’ve caused Katie to have a massive heart attack, but thankfully I saw it first and no one was harmed. Except the spider)

These first few days of internship have basically been spent in Swahili and culture class. We can now (somewhat) successfully carry on a 10 second conversation in Swahili, and then smile and laugh for another 10 seconds until they realize we don’t quite understand. The few Tanzanians we’ve talked to have been helpful though! It’s been really interesting learning about worldviews and African traditional religion. More than anything I’ve learned how in any culture, it takes time to understand why things work the way they do to be able to see how to reach out to the people. For instance, time is viewed very differently in the U.S. and in Africa (and other countries for that matter). Here, timing is controlled by events, where in America it’s controlled by a clock. So if someone shows up an hour late to church, Americans would start on time to stick to the schedule people expected, whereas Tanzanians would wait until everyone was there for the event to respect the person. Neither is wrong because both come out of respect for people, but knowing this changes how we engage a new place. Lessons like this have challenged my way of thinking and opened all of us to see the Lord work in different ways than we expect.